


Killing Machine

by bzarcher



Series: Rising Swan (The Odette AU) [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brief mention of suicidial thoughts, Discussion of Violence, F/F, Odette!AU, Post-Talon Widowmaker, When your brain wants you to kill every single person in the room, discussion of mind control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: When Winston is asked to assist with reports of a surviving Bastion unit in Germany, he decides to ask the advice of one of the only people who can get inside of the mind of a programmed killer.





	1. Discarded Weapons

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why Widowmaker has a new name, check out the other Odette AU stories starting [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8003512)

Odette was confused when Winston asked her to join the briefing in his lab.

She still did not want to go into the field as a combatant – and Mercy had been quite adamant that she didn’t want to see her put into that position, either.

Still, as she sat next to Lena, taking her hand and squeezing it slightly for reassurance, she would try to offer whatever assistance Winston was hoping she could provide.

The people gathered for this meeting were interesting. The short Swede, the gigantic German, Mercy, and the masked vigilante who continued to pretend that he wasn’t Jack Morrison. All, save for herself, members of the original Overwatch, and all combat veterans from the Omnic Crisis.

What could that possibly mean?

“Thanks for coming on short notice, everyone.” As Winston spoke, a large display behind him changed from Athena’s idle animation to a shot of a rather lovely looking forest. “We’ve been contacted by some friends in the German government about a situation that’s been developing over the last week.”

The image zoomed in, panning to focus on a shaggy, dirt covered…shape…moving along a small path. Odette frowned, trying to determine what she was seeing. Vaguely humanoid, under the overgrowth, but not quite. She tried to scrape away some of that dirt with her mind, and her breath caught as she realized what it must be, a moment before Mercy gasped in surprise.

“A Bastion unit? Is that possible?”

“We thought we got them all,” ‘Soldier: 76’ answered, his graveled voice thoughtful. “Either in direct combat, or when the omniums started going offline.”

Odette didn’t like trying to pull from the memories of the woman who she was, essentially, created from, but it wasn’t hard to recall the news from when the Omnic Crisis had finally started to turn in humanity’s favor.

As the omniums had been isolated and shut down (and the God Programs with them), the omnics who had been forced into combat by that particular AI regained control of themselves. For the repurposed civilian models, or military designs with higher level intelligence, it must have been like the end of a long nightmare, and it was typical to see them surrendering in droves.

The Bastion units and their brothers who had been built purely for warfare had been another matter. Driven by combat programming and artificial reflexes that made them see anything without a friendly IFF signature as a threat, they had often launched themselves into berserk frenzies when they stopped receiving directions and objectives from their masters. Sometimes entire positions of front line combat omnics would tear each other apart, leaving nothing for Overwatch and the allied troops supporting them to do but wait and clean up the wreckage.

Other times, they found themselves in desperate fights against enemies with no concept of surrender, and no reason to stop.

“Judging by the amount of plant growth and dirt, this one was likely offline somewhere in the _Schwarzwald_ for many years,” Winston noted, “possibly since the earliest stages of the Crisis.”

“So,” Torbjörn asked, leaning over the table as much as he could, “do they want us to scrap the thing before it blasts through some poor town?”

“That’s what’s interesting,” Winston reached out to tap a remote, and the still picture began to play as a video. “Watch this.”

The video must have been shot from the air – an unmanned drone, Odette assumed – and showed the overgrown combat unit slowly stomping along, before panning to show a small group of men coming up the other side of the trail, perhaps half a kilometer away.

Odette’s jaw tightened as she expected to see the Bastion take up a firing position once its sensors alerted it to the approaching humans, or to transform itself into one of the dreadfully effective turrets that had mown through so many soldiers and civilians alike.

Instead, the Bastion unit’s dirt covered head went up in a gesture that seemed to communicate…surprise? It swiveled its torso back and forth, then ran, heading deeper into the forest, until the camera drone lost contact.

“I have fought Bastion units many times,” Reinhardt mused, “but I have never known them to run away. Even on the rare occasions the God AI ordered them to retreat, they did so in an orderly fashion.”

“That’s what’s got the authorities confused,” Winston confirmed. “By all accounts, any time search parties get near, or it realizes there are humans in an area it entered, this Bastion withdraws as quickly as possible.”

“So what does that have to do with us?” Torbjörn’s scowl twisted his plaited beard and moustache into something quite fearsome. “Did you bring the Lacroix girl here to talk about sniping it? Put a couple of rounds into the CPU or the power core before it knows we’re there?”

Odette could see Lena’s head jerk, out of the corner of her eye, and she didn’t miss Mercy’s wince.

“No, that’s not on the table,” the scientist declared, his voice firm. “I asked Widow- sorry.” The gorilla coughed, looking genuinely embarrassed at his slip, and took a moment to collect himself before going on. “I asked Odette here because I thought she might have some insight into what the Bastion might be doing. I think she may some similar experiences to draw on.”

Odette blinked, her puzzlement clear in her voice when she spoke. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Winston.”

“I think you’ve jumped a few squares ahead of us, luv,” Lena agreed, her own expression equally perplexed. “Mind backing up for us?”

Winston hummed to himself, then sat back on his haunches slightly. “What I think we’re seeing, though I obviously can’t do more than theorize from here, is a Bastion unit with combat protocols that have either been wiped, somehow, or degraded while it was dormant to the point that they’re just as useless. Since nothing is telling it to immediately attack, it seems to prefer to evade. Odette’s experiences with Talon’s programming aren’t quite the same, but I thought she could…put herself in his shoes.”

Lena’s mouth pursed thoughtfully before she leaned in to whisper in her lover’s ear. “Is this OK, luv? If you’re not comfortable with this, we can go.”

“ _Je peux la faire,”_ Odette whispered back after a heartbeat of thought, then kissed the top of the Englishwoman’s head gently. “Thank you for offering, though.” Straightening, she looked back to Winston. “When Angela began working with me, I often felt uncomfortable around anyone. I needed to assure myself they were not a threat before I could attempt to stay near them for any period of time.”

_I still do. There are days the only person I can stand to be in a room with is Lena, and sometimes not even her. I want to run. I want to never be touched again. I want to scream until my throat burns. I want to be held and told it will never happen again. I want to go somewhere that no one will ever find me. I want to fall asleep to the sound of a normal heartbeat. I want to kill anyone who ever hurt me._

_I want to kill anyone who ever hurt her._

“So you think it’s possible that this Bastion is experiencing something similar?” Winston sounded pleased, but thoughtful, appreciating what Odette had suggested. “And if we could demonstrate that we aren’t a threat, it might allow us to get close?”

Odette shrugged eloquently. “I cannot say with any certainty, but it is possible.”

Torbjörn shot to his feet, so much as a man his size was able. “You can’t be serious! You want to make friends with the damn thing?”

Reinhardt put a restraining hand on the Swede’s shoulder. “I have doubts about such a plan, Winston. No matter how timid it may seem, a cornered animal will still bite.”

“And this one,” Torbjörn growled, “could potentially be biting with a thirty millimeter rotary cannon firing three hundred rounds a minute. Maybe with one fifty mil high explosive anti-tank shells if you really get it riled up!”

“It’s a big risk,” 76 observed from where he sat. “Let’s say we do convince it to let us get close. What then?”

“Assess it,” Winston immediately answered, “and potentially remove it from the area to somewhere it could be safely examined. Perhaps even studied for an extended period.”

“Oh, no,” the Swedish engineer stalked around the table, his flesh and blood finger jutting out to poke Winston in the chest. “I already know where THIS is going, don’t I? Bring it back here? Are you out of your damn mind? NO! Absolutely not!”

“That’s only ONE possibility,” Winston growled back, and Odette could sense Lena tensing as her friend stood himself up on two legs, towering over Torbjörn in an instinctive response to his challenge. “A best case scenario. But at the very LEAST, we ensure that it will not harm anyone in the area, and take it somewhere isolated.”

“Are you listening to yourself? A ‘best case scenario’ is bringing home a killing machine?!”

Odette suddenly let out a humorless bark of laughter, causing everyone in the room to look at her. She locked eyes – well, eye – with Torbjörn as he looked over to her. “I find it strange you would object on those grounds, given that everyone here has already been living with a killing machine for the better part of six months.”

Mercy blanched on the other side of the table, and she could see Reinhardt looking at her with a sympathetic frown. She refused to let herself get drawn into either of them, keeping her anger focused tightly on the little man, who had gone from being red with anger to flushing with embarrassment.

“I wasn’t talking about you, lass…”

“Yes, you were,” Odette snapped as she shot to her feet. “A killing machine is what I am. That is what I was MADE to be.”

“Luv, no,” Lena tried to stand with her, but Odette forced her back down with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“ _Tais-toi!_ ” Stalking to the coffee service sitting unused at the back of the room, Odette raised one of the heavy ceramic mugs in one hand. “I will always know who is in the room with me, and how to kill them. I could improvise three different weapons with this, and eliminate every person in this room with them.”

_Use the coffee cup as a bludgeon to strike at the doctor first. Go for a blow to the weakest point of the temple to cause concussion, then snap her neck while stunned. Nanobiotic regeneration is a risk, but she should be incapacitated long enough to clear the room, then find a way to finish her cleanly._

_Break the cup against the edge of the table and use the fragments as slashing weapons. Potentially use the fragments attached to the handle as a punch dagger if they are sharp enough. Go for a strike to the aortic arch or superior vena cava. Reinhardt is wearing a light tank top and has no known cybernetic or nanobiotic enhancements. Excellent target. Sever the artery and he’ll bleed out in seconds._

_Morrison is a wild card due to undocumented enhancements. Knife hand strike to windpipe to put him at a disadvantage. Attempt to disable his visor – there are indications his natural vision is impaired. Put him at a disadvantage. Liberate his pistol, then double-tap to finish._

_Winston is a relatively ineffective close range fighter unless in a frenzied state. Get behind and strike at the narrowed parietal bone in the skull, follow by severing arteries._

_Torbjörn: obvious reach and height disadvantages. Avoid cybernetics and blind his remaining organic eye with thrown shard from the cup. Take his hammer and use blunt force trauma to finish the job._

_Lena remains a challenging target, but the accelerator is a weakness. Destroying it is as good as a kill. She will react instinctively to protect the chronal anchor at its core. Feint to the chest, then follow through into full power strike to the nose. Drive fractured maxilla into brain. Death is instantaneous._

Her heart was racing from her anger, and from the lingering part of her that would always get a thrill from the act of killing. Her chest was heaving, and she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath to settle it, forcing herself to let go of the anger – let go of that need to _strike_ that was burning in her gut. Control of her emotions was still a difficult thing – all too often these days she felt too much or not enough – but she felt steady, if still angry, when she carefully placed the mug back on the service.

“I could kill you. There will almost certainly be a part of me that always _wants_ to kill you. Just because the conditioning has been broken doesn’t mean the programming isn’t there.” Another breath, shuddering slightly, shaking her head to dash away the tears she can feel forming at her eyes. “But I am more than that programming. I have a choice to be more than what I was manufactured into, and I make it every day.”

Odette let her eyes flick up to the screen, at the still, blurry image of the war machine covered in dirt and grass. “I cannot say for sure what that omnic does or does not think…but Winston is right. I do understand it.” Part of her wanted to go sit back down next to Lena, and part of her just wanted to leave the room and walk away. Run until her feet bleed and her legs give out. Pick up the coffee mug and follow the battle plan her programming was constantly revising in her mind, then slit her own throat to finish the job.

She is still staring at the picture of the Bastion when she feels Lena’s hands wrap around her from behind. The accelerator harness gently pressing into the small of her back. A head not quite tall enough to rest on her shoulder presses against it instead. Odette can feel soft breath against the cotton fabric. No words offered, just quiet reassurance. _You are safe here._

It is quiet for many minutes, no one daring to speak before Odette breaks the silence, her voice almost a whisper this time.

“I would be willing to go look for the Bastion.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that,” Winston rumbles quietly.

“I didn’t think you would. But I will still join you.”

“Guess I’m in, then,” Lena gently releases her embrace, steps around, puts a warm hand gently against Odette’s cheek. “Package deal, yeah?”

Words don’t want to come in that moment, so Odette just closes the space between them, returning the embrace. Closing her eyes so the others don’t see her cry. Rocking slightly on her feet so they can’t see her shake.

“I’ll…consider this a volunteer only effort,” Winston finally says, sounding a bit embarrassed as such an intensely personal moment plays out in front of the rest of the room. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning to search the last known sighting. Anyone else who wants to join can…ah…come along.”

The others leave after that, though she can almost feel Mercy’s searching gaze on them, and finally Winston mumbles something about checking the fuel reserves on his jump pack before lumbering out the door.

Lena disengages slowly, gently wiping tears away from her lover’s cheek. “I won’t ask if you’re OK, because I know you’re bloody well not.”

“No,” Odette can’t pretend to be otherwise, “but I will live.”

“Want to go out to the garden? Just sit for a while?”

_“S'il te plait.”_


	2. Machines de Guerre

The flight from the Watchpoint to the Bastion's last reported sighting near Todtnau lasted just under two hours.

Odette had politely refused a suggestion from Winston of arming herself, opting for simply wearing hiking boots, sturdy canvas pants, a lightweight shirt, and casual looking sleeveless vest that she’d carefully modified by removing the inner layer of insulation and sewing in bullet resistant armorgel packs the night before. Thanks to Mercy’s treatments to improve her circulation and skin tone, a close fitting knit hat on her head and a sturdy walking pole in her hand, she looked surprisingly normal. Lena had dressed similarly, save for her accelerator, which she concealed with a thick yellow hoodie. She would be trusting in the armor lining of her harness (and her abilities) for her protection should things go wrong.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she tapped one of her boots against the Orca’s armored floor. _We almost look normal, don’t we? Just a couple out for a nice nature hike._

Who could have imagined that? Tracer and the Widowmaker, backpacking around Germany like two students taking a gap year?

Lena’s gentle jog of her elbow took her away from that rêverie. “What’s so funny, luv?”

“Just thinking, _chérie_. Dressing like we’re off for a weekend holiday, out for a walk in the woods. It’s…different. Almost normal.”

Lena smiled softly, a blush rising on her cheeks, and leaned in for a quick hug. “We’ll have to do this again, but for real. Just you, me, and a nice cabin in the woods?”

Odette leaned down to lightly kiss her…girlfriend? That didn’t quite fit, exactly, but it was close enough for now. They hadn't really talked about exactly what they were to each other. They ought to do that, she knew, but putting labels on what they had become still brought a bit of fear to her mind. In her head, Odette knew that this was _different_ , and that she would die before she allowed Talon to touch either of them ever again. But she still couldn’t quite bring herself to have that conversation. Her heart was still afraid.

“I would like that very much. Perhaps Winston could make do without you for a week or two?”

“Oh, I don’t know if we should go that far,” Lena giggled, “you and I both know he’s helpless without his bedtime stories.”

“I can hear you, you know.” Winston’s head and shoulders poked out from around the cockpit cabin hatchway, peering over his glasses with mock annoyance.

Odette chuckled, her lips quirking up into a sharp smile. “It would be wasted if you couldn’t, _Professeur._ ”

Winston smiled briefly at the jab before returning his attention to the flight.

Mercy had joined them, along with Reinhardt, and to Odette’s mild surprise, Morrison. They were all dressed in their full combat loadouts, but would stay ‘in reserve’ at their landing zone near the last sighting, while Odette and Lena hiked a search pattern Winston had worked out based on the most recent sightings and the average walking speed of a fully functional Bastion unit. Assuming they did find it, they would be the ones doing their best to convince the omnic they didn’t mean it harm.

If they failed, the others would do their best to take it down without anyone else getting hurt. 

Once the transport was landed and hidden away from prying eyes in the air or on the ground, the team assembled on the same trailhead they’d viewed on the camera footage yesterday afternoon.

“Take these.” Winston held out a hand, carefully cradling a pair of earpieces in his palm. They were barely larger than a hearing aid, and colored to match each woman’s skin tone. “We’ll check in with you every half hour. If you have an emergency, just tap the side and it will open an all-call channel. There’s a micro-GPS in there, too, so we’ll be able to home in on you.”

“We shall charge to your rescue,” Reinhardt declared, swinging his massive hammer up on to his armored shoulder, “have no fear!"

“Sounds aces, luv.” Once she had her earbud in place, Lena smiled up to the larger man. “Just try not to bang your head on any trees, yeah?”

Reinhardt’s laughter rang out, and Odette winced before rapping her knuckles firmly against the German’s armored chest. “Try to stay quiet until we call, if you can. If the Bastion is staying close to this area, we do not want to alarm it.”

“We’ll do our best to keep him under control,” Morrison promised gruffly, then looked over to Odette, his visor’s red optic locking onto her gaze. “If you find it and you see the torso start to twist past 120 degrees of arc, or the hip armor flexing up to a 90 degree angle, get into cover. That’s the only warning you’re going to get before it reconfigures into one of its combat modes.”

Odette nodded, wondering if he’d learned that in the SEP before Overwatch, or in battle alongside Reyes and the rest of the old guard. “And if the Bastion begins firing?”

“Find hard cover and stay there,” Morrison responded without hesitation, “even if you had your grappling gear, you’d be hard pressed to move faster than its targeting systems. Lena, you’ve got the best chance of disabling it if you’re together. Are you carrying any pulse bombs?”

“Just the one,” Lena admitted, almost sounding embarrassed, “trying not to spook the poor thing, but I know it could come down to that.”

Morrison nodded. “Remember the training we used to do – and stay focused. Back of the neck, rear tank armor, or the exposed sensor hub of the turret are your best anchor points for a clean kill.”

“Hopefully it won’t be necessary.” Mercy smiled at Lena and Odette, the doctor doing her best to offer reassurance as the wings of her Valkyrie suit fluttered behind her. “But we’ll be watching over you, no matter what.”

 _“Au revoir,_ then.” Odette tried to offer a reassuring smile before starting to make her way down the trail. From the looks on their faces, she might have even come close to succeeding.

* * *

 According to the map that Athena had loaded onto their phones, they’d cleared the first third of their search area when Lena spotted the first signs of their quarry.

“See those depressions in the slope? Kind of shovel-shaped?”

“ _Oui._ Footprints?”

“Mmhm. Not _fresh_ -fresh, but fresh-ish.”

“Fresh- _ish_?”

“Sure. Half a day old? Maybe a bit past that?”

“You keep insisting that you’re speaking English, _ma petite lumière,_ yet continue making up words.” Odette let herself enjoy a moment of fond exasperation, even as part of her swept a careful gaze over their surroundings. “The tips of the footprints seem to be canted up, not down.”

“I think you’re right. If he’s climbing…according to the map there’s a decent flat up that way, two hundred meters west and about fifty above us.”

“He?”

Lena shrugged as she put her phone back into the hoodie’s front pocket. “Easier than calling him an ‘it’. Especially if we’re going to try talking him into coming down with us.”

Odette carefully set the hiking pole’s steel tip into the hillside, then started to work on finding good footholds to follow the Bastion's tracks. “So why assume it’s male?” She isn’t quite sure why she’s latched on to this line of questions, but it beats wondering if they’re being targeted already – 200 meters would be well outside of the automaton’s optimal range, but with the sheer volume of fire it could produce…

Lena interrupted that line of thought with a laugh. “He transforms into a giant cock on legs! Some engineer’s walking overcompensation.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that joke as she climbed. “So what does that make all of those turrets that _Monsieur_ Lindholm tosses around?”

Lena winked. “I’m sure I have NO idea.” Before Odette could respond, she’d blinked to a relatively flat outcropping a few yards up. “C’mon, luv, let’s see what’s at the top already!”

“ _Tu triches,_ ” Odette grumbled, climbing until she’d reached the same ledge. The hill was getting steeper, and the rocks would be difficult for her to get purchase on with the hiking pole for leverage. “I’m not sure I can crest this face of the hill as easily as you will be able to. I think I may try circling around to see if there’s a gentler slope.”

Lena nodded. “Fair enough. But if you run into any trouble, you push the button, promise?”

“ _Je promets, chérie._ ”

It didn’t take too long to find her way around, while Lena continued to blink her way up. Odette had nearly reached the top when a bird flapped past her from a nearby tree, landing on an overgrown formation of stones a few meters away.

“ _Bonjour, petit oiseau.”_ It was bright yellow, with dark bands and a white tipped flare around the eye. The bird seemed to respond to her greeting, hopping to face her and offering a bright sounding trill.

Amélie had never been much for bird watching, as far as Odette could recall from those fragmented memories, and Talon had certainly not considered that vital information for the Widowmaker’s programming. Odette thought this kind was a finch? But she could also vaguely recall there was a yellow feathered breed called a ‘warbler’, which certainly described the bird’s song quite well. She was half thinking of calling up the hill to Lena, to see if she might know, when the bird began to peck at the side of the stone next to it, singing happily as its beak began to strike…metal?

_Merde._

The bird sang happily as it tapped against armor plate over and over again, until what Odette had originally taken for a stone slowly began to turn to face it, a bright blue light beginning to shine from the optic that originally been pointed away from the hillside.

Odette’s mouth became very dry, and Morrison’s words about the ‘warning signs’ echoed through her mind. _A pity he did not suggest what indicates hostility when the omnic is already in a combat configuration._

If the squat shapes in front of her were parts of the body, not simply rocks and stumps engulfed in newer growth…yes, it was compacted into its turret mode, the rotary cannon pointed away from her, fortunately. The plants provided remarkably good camouflage. She couldn’t help but wonder if that had been deliberate.

The bird didn’t seem to care, picking a small twig off of part of the machine’s glacis plate, and to Odette’s shock, the Bastion began…singing back? As if it was trying to hold a conversation with the bird using electronic noise.

Moving as slowly as she could, Odette brushed the comm earbud with a fingertip, her voice barely above a whisper. “Lena? Can you hear me?”

Odette knew the earbud was transmitting sound through her mastoid bones, not out loud, but she still felt her stomach clench at Lena’s excited reply. “I was wondering what was keeping you, luv! Hilltop’s clear. I was just thinking of coming down to find you.”

She carefully took in the bird and the war machine, watching for the slightest sign of alarm as she replied. “Don’t. He has found me – or I found him, I’m not quite sure.”

Winston’s rumbling bass broke into the conversation. “Is it hostile? Are you in any immediate danger?”

“I don’t think he has noticed me,” she reported, trying to keep her voice as reassuring as she could for Lena’ sake. “A bird landed on what I thought was a rock formation…and then the ‘rocks’ began to move. It almost seems as though the Bastion is trying to talk to it.”

“Fascinating!” Winston seemed far too cheerful about this entire situation, and Odette was beginning to understand a bit of Torbjörn’s exasperation from the previous day. “Is it using verbal communication?”

“Not exactly.” She tried to explain the machine’s beeping, whirring, and whistling sounds as best she could without drawing attention to herself. “I don’t want to make much more noise, though, or risk startling it if Lena teleported to me.”

“Mercy and I will start making our way towards you, but I’ll stay at the edge of my jump pack range unless you give the word.”

“ _D’accord._ ”

“I’ll try to move as quietly as I can, and get to where I can see you,” Lena offered, “that way I can at least try to blink in if it goes pear shaped.”

“Be careful.”

Odette couldn’t decide if she was annoyed or amused that Lena didn’t respond to that.

Finally, after what felt like another hour of birdsong and experimental techno music, the bird stopped singing along with the omnic’s attempts to mimic it (or perhaps it was the other way around?) and turned to look back at her again, hopping to the edge of what was basically the machine’s shoulder and giving another bright trill.

This time, the Bastion swiveled his head to face her as well, jerking it up in surprise as he realized how close she was, a thick clod of dirt and grass falling to the forest floor.

Barely breathing, Odette slowly crouched down so she could be at ‘eye level’, placing her hiking stick on the ground. “Hello. I’m not here to hurt you, or your little friend.”

Servos whirred as the Bastion’s head canted back down, then angled slowly back and forth, as if considering her.

She wondered if the omnic had heat sensors to go with the visual scanners and targeting radar that had been mentioned in the briefing file about the machines that Winston had sent to her phone before they left Gibraltar. Perhaps her body’s temperature, still markedly lower than a normal human, was confusing it?

“I don’t mean any harm.” Carefully, she reached out with a hand, palm up, fingers opened. “Can you speak to me? English? _Parlez-vous français?_ _Sprechen sie Deutsch?”_

The blue optic flickered off for a moment, then blue, back off, and then back to blue again before it made a buzzing sound, followed by a long beep that slowly descended in tone.

“That’s all right,” Odette replied, keeping her voice as level as she could, “it seems like you can understand me. Would you please beep twice if you can?”

Two short beeps, both a brighter pitch.

“ _Très bien._ My name is Odette.”

The Bastion made two humming, buzzing sounds that could have almost been the syllables of her name, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“That’s very good. You’re quite clever, aren’t you?”

Another pleased sounding whirr.

The bird hopped forward again, as if feeling like it was being left out of the conversation, then took to the air for a brief moment, landing on her outstretched hand. Singing to her, then turning its head towards the omnic and offering a similar performance.

She smiled slightly. “Your friend is very eloquent.” There was a rustle of movement and the sounds of hydraulics and motors engaging. Odette’s breath caught for a moment as the Bastion converted into a taller, much more humanoid form, a few more chunks of dirt breaking away as the machine’s body parts shifted and locked into new shapes.

“Luv, you’ve stopped talking.” Lena’s voice had gone tense, concern snapping across the comm. “I just heard what sounded like a lot of movement. What’s going on?”

She forced herself to release the breath she’d been holding. “It’s all right,” Odette wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure more, Lena, the Bastion, or herself, “I’m staying still. You can come a little closer if you like. I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

The Bastion took two halting steps forward, some of the flowers and grasses that were still entrenched on his frame swaying and bobbing with each one. Odette noted with some relief that the semi-automatic cannon that made up one forearm was pointed harmlessly at the ground, and when it did raise the other, human-like hand in a fist, it then slowly extended a finger towards the bird, offering it a new perch.

“He’s a very pretty bird. Do you consider him your pet?” The bird leaned towards the outstretched digit, stroking itself along the metal joints, and she couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Or perhaps he considers you his.”

The Bastion made three short whirring noises – uncannily like a human’s laughter.

Winston’s voice held something very much like awe when he spoke in her ear again. “Remarkable. It doesn’t seem to have the capability for verbal communication, but it’s found a way to use mimicry and industrial signaling code to impressive effect. Well beyond anything in the original design spec.”

“Perhaps we both grew beyond what our makers expected of us,” Odette mused softly, and the Bastion tilted his head again with an inquisitive ‘brrt?’ sound.

“I was supposed to be a weapon,” she explained, her free hand coming up to rub at her sternum through her vest. “It took a very good friend to help me realize I could chose to be otherwise.” She smiled at the little bird, who had hopped up onto the Bastion’s offered finger, then carefully stood back up to her full height. “It seems you found such a friend as well.”

“Ohh,” Lena teased quietly, “I’m a good _friend_ am I?”

“Lena,” Mercy broke in, “now is not the time.”

_Merci beaucoup, l’ange._

“Sorry.” Lena sounded anything but. “I’m in position, by the way.” Odette concentrated on her peripheral vision…there. She could just make out a tuft of chestnut hair off to the right, the yellow hood pushed back to make her a bit less obvious.

The Bastion didn’t seem to care. It just let out another soft series of whistles, trying to respond to another burst of song from its feathered companion.

“You don’t want to hurt anyone,” Odette asked gently, “do you?”

Two beeps. Her knees suddenly felt weak, and it took genuine effort to keep from succumbing to the rush of relief that spread through her.

“Some friends of mine were told about you.” She explained, gently as she could. “We thought you might be trying to stay away from people. Is that why you came up to this hill?”

Two more beeps, and a rapid nod.

“If we promised to be careful, would it be all right if we took you – and your friend – on a trip? We have a place well away from here, where you would not be at risk from anyone, and could be left alone as much as you liked.”

_Except perhaps from the Swede, who would smelt you down given half a chance, and the Russian, who Angela will probably need to dose with horse tranquilizers before we allow her to step foot in the Watchpoint again. But the monk will like you. He seems to like everyone, and perhaps his ninja shall, too. Between the three of us, you and your little friend would never have to know about any risks. You could feel protected there. I will make sure of that._

The Bastion’s optic flickered again, head slowly panning back and forth, then up and down, as if capturing a panorama. Confused? Considering? She wasn’t really sure.

“It’s your choice,” Odette offered, “We – I – will not force you to do anything you do not wish. It is simply an offer. There are people living near the forest who may be afraid of you, but you clearly know how to escape them.” She paused, her voice going distant. “But sometimes we grow tired of running, don’t we? We just want a place to feel safe.”

The bird fluttered up the Bastion’s arm and up to his shoulder, and she realized that the bird had been building a little nest there. That was rather cute, actually. Then, to her shock, the Bastion reached out, and gently put its hand on hers, offering two softer, somehow more somber beeps.

“I know how important it is to feel that you have a choice,” Odette looked up, smiling a bit sadly, “I will make sure that whatever you decide, it will be respected. I promise you that.”

There was a long moment where all Odette could hear was her own breathing, and the sounds of the other creatures in the forest that surrounded them. Then, the Bastion slowly took a step back from her. Raising to point at her with his hand, then back to himself, then raising his arm up and away, towards the sky, the fingers wiggling as it went. Turning his head to look up at the blue skies through the treetops, then offering two beeps.

Odette couldn’t explain why she began to cry softly. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly hugging the war machine, her nose filled with the scent of machine oils, rich earth, and sweet grasses. But even if the Bastion was just as surprised, he didn’t try to pull away, and he didn’t attack. Just stood, with his bird singing softly to them both.

“Angela and I will be walking up shortly,” Winston informed everyone through the comms, “I think it would be best if you had your armor off and stowed in a cargo locker before we come down the hill, Reinhardt. Your rifle, too, 76.”

“ _Aber ja_ ,” Reinhardt’s voice sounded scratchy – almost as if he had been crying, too, “there’s no reason to stir up any old troubles.”

“I quite agree,” Winston’s voice almost dripped with relief, “thank you.”

Odette stepped back, wiping the last few tears away before she tried to speak. “My friends will come up the hill to us, and then we can all leave together. I will stay with you the whole way down, and on our flight home. Is that all right?”

The Bastion offered two more beeps, and Odette could feel that there was something hopeful for both of them in the sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that if I start crying while I'm writing, I probably did something right.

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, crap. The feels train haven't brakes, kids.


End file.
